Slaughtering unarmed demonstrators and turning his back on America has not made President Islam Karimov safer

Karimov and his handiwork

ANDIJAN'S prison, rammed at high speed on May 13th by a hijacked truck to free prisoners, now has new gates and zig-zag concrete blocks outside. The town hall, where government hostages were held by protesters, is being reconstructed. Buildings facing Babur Square, where up to a thousand peaceful bystanders were gunned down by government troops as they listened to protesters' speeches, are still pockmarked by mortar and bullet holes. But five months after the atrocityâ€”probably the worst committed by a government against demonstrators since Tiananmen in 1989â€”there are few other overt signs of the uprising against the repressive, and economically disastrous, regime of Islam Karimov. Yet its fallout continues.

The irony is that while these events shocked the world and prompted the EU, after much hesitation, to impose sanctions, few Uzbeks know what really happened. This is due to the blocking of all communications during the May events, a continuing government propaganda effort, and show trials, the first of which (of 15 alleged ringleaders) has just ended with guilty verdicts. Their aim was to exonerate the regime, and in this they succeeded. One woman, now in fear of her life, testified to the killing, but all the accused pleaded guilty to being terrorists with foreign connections and of having done the shooting themselves. The government has also tried hard to create the spectre of foreign-linked religious extremists intent on taking over the country, rather than just desperate Uzbeks who wanted a better life.

But while their knowledge is mostly hazy, many Uzbeks say â€œeverythingâ€ has got worse since Andijan. Surveillance and security have been ratcheted up still further. There are police every 50 metres in Tashkent and dozens of roadblocks on the single mountainous road that leads to the Fergana valley, where Andijan is located. New methods of control include civilian informers who report directly to the police. Indigenous neighbourhood committees now keep tabs on the population. Most foreign NGOs have been closed down, the remaining few threatened. The BBC closed its Tashkent office last week, after much harassment: its one foreign reporter was withdrawn in June.

Besides Andijan, the trigger for a widening crackdown has been President Karimov's growing anxieties following other popular revolutions in the regionâ€”starting with Georgia, then Ukraine and finally Kirgizstan, on Uzbekistan's own border. For all of these, he has explicitly blamed the â€œintrusive meddlingâ€ of America and the West. Shortly after the Kirgiz revolution, in March, many of the roads to government buildings in the centre of Tashkent were blocked off. Hedges of flowering shrubs to which inhabitants were much attached were cut down, presumably to stop potential terrorists using them as cover.

Anti-western propaganda has become ever more strident in the state-controlled media, and the western press is routinely accused of fomenting a â€œfifth columnâ€. Words have given way to deeds and the Americansâ€”ordered in July to leave their military base by the end of the yearâ€”are busy packing up. Meanwhile, the economic situation in Uzbekistan grows steadily worse. The country has enormous gold reserves, is one of the world's largest cotton producers, and has uranium and sizeable oil and gas deposits. But virtually no wealth trickles down to people beyond an elite circle of a few thousand. Cotton pickers earn a pittance, while farmers are forced not only to grow crops selected by the government but then to sell their entire crop at low state prices. Smuggling is widespread; there is scarcely any industry to provide jobs or create wealth.

Some of the worst poverty in the country is found in the densely populated Fergana valley, home to 8m people, a third of the country's population. The valley is politically volatile and has a history of religious fervour. Locals in Andijan and the valley say that the revolt in May was not an isolated incident, but one of many that had been taking place throughout the country. Although the tree-lined streets of Andijan now appear calm, the mood is tense, angry and fearful. Efforts to undercut the social unrest, including releasing long-overdue pensions, wages and salaries, have been undermined by a subsequent wave of arrests of anyone believed to be connected to or have knowledge of the uprising. There have been beatings and forced confessions.

Despite the grim outlook, many Uzbeks think the chances of change are slim. Some say they fear a bloodbath. Others say that 67-year-old President Karimov is politically stronger than ever. He is financially self-sufficient, and protected by the region's largest and best equipped army and security forces, which are estimated to employ one in three of the population.

Even so, others believe that another popular uprising like the one in Andijan could happen. None of its underlying causes have been addressed. â€œIt could take another harsh winter and all heat and power failing as it did recently, for the people to rebel,â€ says one observer, adding that security forces might well refuse to turn on the people again. One well-informed source said that within the elite tough questions are urgently being asked about the wisdom of the new anti-western course being pursuedâ€”and about the efficacy of the president's policies. Unrest lies just beneath the surface, kept down only through extraordinary repression.